Letters From The Inside
by TehOpheliac
Summary: One day, Harry is greeted by a strange owl that seems oddly familiar. It introduces Harry to something weird, something amazing, something that allows him to interact with an anonymous person whom he fall head over heels for. Snarry. EXTENDED HIATUS!
1. Screech

**Title: **Letters From The Inside

**Writer: **Teh Opheliac (A.K.A. Lillith Maxwell)

**Warnings: **Slash / Yaoi, Snarry (Snape x Harry)

**Summary: **One day, Harry is greeted by a strange owl that seems oddly familiar. With a bit of coaxing, it introduces Harry to something weird, something amazing, something that allows him to interact with an anonymous person whom he fall head over heels for. Harry's life will never be the same again.

**Letters From The Inside**

**Chapter One**

Harry sighed in satisfaction as he watched Hedwig fly off with his letter to Sirius. He hadn't heard from his Godfather in some time now and he was beginning to get worried. He breathed in deeply, enjoying the fresh air- before he realized that he was still in the Owlery and the air was anything but fresh. He took a step forward in the direction of the exit and winced when he heard the sound of a tiny skeleton crunching underneath his shoe.

He was abruptly startled out of his thoughts when a black and white Strix Nigrolineata owl let out a loud screech from his right. He turned in its direction and cocked his head to the side with a confused expression as he gazed at it, wondering why it had called out to him. _To him?_ What was he thinking?! Of course it wasn't calling out to him! After all, it was just an owl- perhaps more intelligent than most, but still an owl.

Despite all of this, he took a few steps in its direction and slowly reached out to it, hoping it wouldn't bite him. It didn't. He smiled at it and gave it a few firm strokes, remembering the first time he had met Hedwig. Almost as though it were sensing that he was drifting off again, it leaned forward and nipped at his pointer finger. "Ouch!" Harry groaned, pulling his hand away from the owl with a small glare. "What did you do that for?!"

It ignored him and swooped down and settled down beside his feet before walking forward in the direction of the far side of the Owlery. It was halfway across the room before it seemed to realize that Harry wasn't following. Its body drooped forward with what looked like a sigh before it turned its head in his direction with a single haughty glance that almost seemed to say, _'Well? What are you just standing there for?! Follow me!' _

Harry sighed deeply, wondering just when he had fallen asleep or gone insane. Normal people couldn't understand what an owl was trying to say to you with a single expression- if they even had one. He shook his head a bit and decided to follow the owl, having nothing to do anyway.

When the owl was certain he was going to follow it again, it continued into the far corner of the room and paused, waiting for Harry to catch up. As he did so, the owl seemed to straighten itself in an almost elegant pose and step forward- through the wall.

Harry froze, his eyes wide. The owl had just walked _through_ the wall!! What the hell?! He swallowed thickly and glanced around the Owlery. Everything _looked _normal. Hell, everything _smelled_ normal. So how could an owl have simply walked right through a solid stone wall?!

…unless it wasn't as solid as it seemed to be. There was only one way to find out. Certain he was dreaming now, he reached out to touch the stone wall. Nothing. His fingers went right through it, just as the owl had.

Startled, Harry whipped his hand backwards and studied it. All of his fingers were intact and they worked the same as they always had, he observed as he wiggled them. Sighing in relief that he hadn't lost any pieces of his fingers he returned his gaze to the 'wall.'

It was at that moment that a familiar annoyed screech sounded from behind the wall. Harry's eyes widened. Obviously, the owl from earlier was still there-wherever there was- in one piece and alive.

Curiosity gnawed at Harry. He took a deep breath as a shiver swept down his back. Then he closed his eyes and walked through the wall.

**To be continued…**

**Writers Note: **I apologize for this chapter being so tiny! I don't think I've EVER written a chapter this small before- but it was necessary. I wanted to introduce a bit of the plot- but if I hadn't stopped it when I did, it would have gone on for far too long! Expect the next chapter to have at least 2,000 words instead of the pathetic amount it has in this chapter!!


	2. The Journal

**Title: **Letters From The Inside

**Writer: **Teh Opheliac (A.K.A. Lillith Maxwell)

**Beta: **Obssessed4Life

**Warnings: **Slash / Yaoi, Snarry (Snape x Harry)

**Summary: **One day, Harry is greeted by a strange owl that seems oddly familiar. With a bit of coaxing, it introduces Harry to something weird, something amazing, something that allows him to interact with an anonymous person whom he fall head over heels for. Harry's life will never be the same again.

* * *

**Letters From The Inside**

**Chapter Two: The Journal**

_Curiosity gnawed at Harry and, taking a deep breath as a shiver swept down his back, he closed his eyes and walked through the wall._

A moment ticked by slowly and nothing happened. He wasn't dead, hurting or in hell (which, he supposed, was probably a good thing). Slowly, as though he didn't quite believe it he opened his right eye and peeked out at the space around him. It looked the same as the rest of the Owlery. Disappointed, he slumped forward and sighed deeply, opening both of his eyes.

The owl from earlier looked up at him, exasperated, and it almost seemed to roll it's eyes at his drama- could an owl roll it's eyes at someone? Harry shrugged, obviously it could. He turned around and looked back in the direction from which he came. Everything _seemed_ normal- and it also seemed to include the little area he was standing in. He frowned; that didn't make sense.

That was when it abruptly occurred to him. There was a glamour spell over the area to conceal it. But why? Why would someone go to all the effort to conceal the edge of a room?

The owl (which he had '_affectionately_' named Screech for obvious reasons) let out that familiar screech that never failed to make him start and glare down at it. "What now?"

Screech glared at him (or, well, it looked and felt like it did) and turned it's head away arrogantly, snubbing him for a moment. Harry growled quietly in irritation. He took enough attitude from the Slytherins and his nasty Potions Professor, Snape, he didn't need any more of it- and certainly not from an owl!

It seemed to finally get the picture- or perhaps it had simply grown bored standing there. Turning around to face the _real_ wall, it walked forward and to the right. Harry followed it curiously- after all, it had led him past the glamour the first time. This time, though, it stopped when it got to the wall and flapped it's wings lightly, fluttering upwards and nudging around and finally burrowing itself under the wall hanging that bore Hogwart's emblem.

A minute ticked by and a series of strange sounds followed the lump under the cloth that which was matted with dirt and faded in color. Screech seemed to be having problems doing whatever it was that it was trying to do.

Harry chose to step in and help it not too long after. He may not have like the owl's cocky attitude but he could never stop himself from helping anyone- human or animal- in need. He reached out and grasped the side of the cloth, surprised by both how soft and heavy it was, and lifted it up. To his bewilderment, he was faced with a locked doorknob and a grateful owl.

Screech escaped the wrath of the wretched cloth as soon as it was able. It flew up and fluttered to the left of Harry's head for a moment before letting out a soft coo- Harry assumed that meant thank you. Then it settled itself down upon his shoulder and sent him a look that made Harry feel like he was supposed to be the grateful one, not the owl.

Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at the lock before quietly whispering, "_Alohomora._" There was a pregnant pause and for a split second, Harry thought that this wasn't going to work. And then there was a loud groan of metal and the door not only unlocked itself but creaked halfway open. Harry smiled and grabbed the handle, pulling it open even wider and stepped inside.

Screech immediately took off the second he walked inside. It flew to the far off right and landed upon a desk where it began to shove things around with it's feet busily. Harry ignored it and squinted, trying to get his eyes focused again after the abrupt jump into a much darker environment.

The first thing he noticed was how dusty everything was here. So much so, in fact, that when Screech decided to take off, that the disturbance it caused in the room caused dust to literally pour out of nowhere and leave him stranded in the middle with a coughing fit. Harry waved his hand around in front of his face and glared in the direction the owl had gone, cursing it silently. If it had been paying attention to him, Harry could already imagine the proud and slightly cocky look it would have given him.

When the dust cleared and his throat was no longer protesting the sudden infiltration, Harry glanced around the room silently. There were books upon books piled _everywhere_. There were other random items as well, Harry noticed. He stepped across the room and pulled a book off the shelf and flipped through it. It seemed to be an equivalent of magical yearbook. Every time he turned the page, nervous faces gave him a forced and painful looking grin.

He laughed to himself softly as he eyed one boy in particular. He was hunched down in his chair, his shoulder-length dark hair covering the flushed cheeks of face. At the last moment, though, he cocked his head to the side and a single obsidian eye gazed at him with embarrassment. It reminded him of Ron and how nervous he sometimes would become.

Screech called out to him impatiently once more and he sighed, closing the book and putting it back where he found it before turning to head over towards the owl. "Yes?" he asked, despite the fact that he knew the owl wouldn't actually be able to respond to him. Screech gave him a look before turning back and nudging a thick hard-back book towards him.

Harry frowned as he picked it up, running his hand down the leather spine and enjoying the semi-smooth surface of it. It was a faded black and had an unknown elegant quality to it that Harry couldn't seem to identify. It had no title or text of any kind on both the cover or spine that would help him to reveal it's secrets. Despite this, he enjoyed the weight of the book in his hands. It felt firm, right.

Harry felt his interest for the item intensify. He was curious as to what could be inside of it, what it was all about. He gently opened the older book and flipped through it, finding only blank pages with an elegant silver border. The disappointment that flooded through him subsequently was so strong that it startled him. He furrowed his eyebrows together and wondered just what it was he had been hoping to find. He sighed when he came up with nothing.

Despite the fact that there was nothing in it, Harry couldn't squash the urge to take it with him. It was nothing important, obviously, there was nothing written in it. And yet, somehow, he _knew_. He knew subconsciously that there was something important about this book and that if he let it out of his sight, he might be making the worst mistake of his life.

So, he closed the book and held onto it tightly, turning to face Screech. "Thank you," he told the owl seriously. He knew the owl wouldn't actually be able to understand him but he still felt the need to thank it. He would never have found the journal if it weren't for Screech.

Harry swore that the owl smirked at him in response. It gave him one last long look before it swiftly flew by him and out of the tiny room. Harry followed after him, stepping back into the room and shutting the door behind him. Deciding that he had already wasted too much time as it was, he quickly left the room. If he would have looked back before leaving, he would have noticed that both the owl and the door were gone.

--

It was only around midnight that night that Harry was finally able to settle down on his bed and pull out the black journal (well, that _was_ what he intended to use it for, after all) he had found earlier. Today had been a stressful day for Harry and he had had to practically beat off the other Gryffindor with a stick! Although, he had won the first Quidditch game of the school year in only an hour and a half- which only served to anger the Slytherins.

He had been so caught up in the events of the day that he hadn't been able to tell Ron or Hermione about his small adventure in the Owlery. By the time he had remembered to, it was too late and both of them were asleep. Harry wasn't about to disturb them either! Besides… he wanted to keep the day's events- and the journal- to himself, even if it was for just a tiny bit longer.

He sighed softly and ran a hand through his hair before rolling over to dig around for a quill and some ink. He made a soft sound of triumph when he found the desired items and he contentedly rolled back around to settle down in front of the journal again. Now how should he start? Did it really matter?

No, it didn't, he decided finally. He bit down and began to nibble on his lower lip for a moment before he flexed his hand and started to write:

_I think I'm gay. No, wait, I __know__ I'm gay. I just haven't been able to admit it to anyone else yet. Not even to my closest friends- whom I have told __everything__ to. Well, I think one of them might not care but the other I am not so sure of. I mean, he's really close-minded. What if I told him and he started to feel weird being around me? Or even worse, what if he's disgusted and wants nothing to do with me anymore! I don't know if I could take losing one of my best friends…_

_Not to mention the fact that I'm certain that my family wouldn't accept it- why would they? To half of them, I'm perfect- they would be expecting me to go find some nice girl, marry her and pop out a bunch of lovely children. To the rest? Well, they would hate me even more than they already do. In fact, I'm willing to bet they would go as far as to say that my being gay only served to prove their point. _

_So what am I supposed to do? I don't want to let my family or my friends down. At the same time, I also don't want to pretend to be someone I'm not. I'm so lost. I wish everyone didn't look at me with such expectations. I'm not even an adult yet! It's __my__ life so why do they get to control it?_

_I just wish… I had someone, anyone, I could trust and talk to about this; a friend that wouldn't judge me because of what my name is but rather, who I am. _

Harry sighed, satisfied as he pulled away and reread everything he had written. He stopped a few times along the way to add a period or a comma before he nodded to himself and smiled. He felt better now that he had written this, gotten his worries out of his system. It had been on his mind for a while now and he was finally able to relax and think clearly.

He had been wondering about whether or not he was gay for a few months now. It had been a hard decision. After all, he could look at a girl and immediately know she was attractive- but that didn't mean he wanted to go have sex with her. Far from it, actually, he usually never even thought about it. It never even occurred to him that perhaps he should kiss a girl sometime.

Now, guys on the other hand… he constantly felt his eyes focusing on them and their body in particular (something that rarely happened to any girls with him). The boys at the school were so lean and… attractive. Particularly one snarky potions master. Harry stopped, horrified with that thought. Snape?! Did he just admit that he was attracted to Snape? No way! Of course he wasn't! He cleared his throat quietly with wide eyes and promptly decided that now would be a good time to sleep- the lack of it was really beginning to get to his mind.

Harry pulled the blankets up over him and rolled over onto his side as he placed the journal under his pillow. He was asleep not even five minutes after his head touched the pillow.

--

Somewhere deep in the dungeons, a familiar black and white Strix Nigrolineata soared through the hallway, clutching a book that looked identical to that of the one Harry had found earlier that day. It took mere minutes for Screech to find the door that belonged to Professor Severus Snape. It knew where it was going, after all. It released the book at a sharp angle at the last second before hurriedly flying off just around the corner where it settled down to watch in silence.

The book hit the door with a loud crack and even Screech jumped a little, not intending for the impact to make such a loud noise. It comforted itself with the tiniest sound before quieting down and waiting. It didn't have to wait long.

Moments later, Snape's door flew open and a furious Potion's Professor stood menacingly in the doorway. He glared around at the dark, empty hallway for a moment. "Blasted kids…" he murmured softly, stepping back to close the door again. It was then he noticed the book on the floor. He frowned, reaching down and picking it up. He turned around, still grumbling to himself, and walked inside. He shut the door with a firm click behind him.

Screech released a soft trill of pleasure and preened itself happily. Its plan was working. Oh yes! Soon, everything would fall into its claws just as it wanted it to. Without waiting a minute longer, it turned and disappeared into the dark depths of the hallway.

**To be continued…**

* * *

**Writers Note:** Ahah! Do you like it?! I do! :D I wrote this directly after the first chapter- but I want to wait a week before posting each chapter. This way, it will give me enough time to sort out the rest of the story and get it written as quickly as I'm able! Please tell me what you think so far. I'm quite proud of myself as this is my first real fanfic in years. It seems that my writer's block is FINALLY gone! YAY!

Now, to give you another hint- although I'm sure you can already tell- that owl is someone that you have already met before- although, not yet in this fic. I mean in the actual books. Who do you think it is? What do you think its real purpose is? xD

Expect the next update in one week! :D I am working on chapter three! If you want to see how many chapters are done for this story while you are waiting for my next update, check my profile. Any and all feedback is GREATLY appreciated. 3


	3. You're Not Alone

**Title: **Letters From The Inside

**Writer: **Teh Opheliac (A.K.A. Lillith Maxwell)

**Beta: **Obssessed4Life

**Warnings: **Slash / Yaoi, Snarry (Snape x Harry); AU, Sirius is alive! -More to come.

**Summary: **One day, Harry is greeted by a strange owl that seems oddly familiar. With a bit of coaxing, it introduces Harry to something weird, something amazing, something that allows him to interact with an anonymous person whom he fall head over heels for. Harry's life will never be the same again.

* * *

**Letters From The Inside**

**Chapter Three: You're Not Alone**

The next morning, Harry was woken up by an obnoxious ray of sunlight that persisted in shining into his eyes. He groaned, annoyed and still half asleep. With an irritated sigh, he rolled over to avoid it only to expose his entire face to that damned sun again! He hissed, lifting his hand above his eyes and blocking the light from making contact with his sensitive eyes.

"Ouch…" he murmured, feeling sluggish, as he opened first one eye and then another. Harry looked around the room and found it deserted as he yawned and sat up for a refreshing stretch. As he did this, he recalled the odd dream he had the night before. It was of a sad man whom had endured a lifetime of torment. He had been sitting down next to the man and watching him without the need for words while the man had returned his gaze. That was it; they had sat in each other's presence and watched each other.

Normally Harry would have liked to have believed that he was more creative than that. Despite this, he hadn't found the dream boring. It had been comforting, almost interesting to gaze at the man's eyes and watch his emotions flicker through them. He had felt in control of the dream- which wasn't quite normal for him. Usually, if he wasn't having a nightmare, he felt like he was watching a movie and he had a difficult time remembering even a mere third of the dream.

Last night was different though. He could have moved anywhere he wanted in the vivid, detailed world if he had found reason to.

Harry shook his head and stood up, smiling as he thought about the man. He headed to the foot of his bed and opened up the trunk at the bottom of it, digging around for his robes, tooth brush and other necessities before heading down to the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later he hurried back into his dorm room and grabbed his books and wand. He turned to leave the room when the edge of the journal caught his eye. It was peeking out from under the pillow and taunting him. Harry licked his lips and grabbed it, settling it under one of his school books before leaving the room. He felt better than he had in weeks and he hummed to himself as he walked to the Great Hall.

"Wow, someone's in a good mood!" Hermione commented as Harry took a seat beside Ron with a big grin.

Harry nodded at her, "Yeah, I woke up feeling great. For the first time in a long time, I had a good night's sleep." He turned his attention to the table and studied the food before him. Everything looked so good- and he felt as though he were starving! Harry took some pumpkin juice, french toast and a piece of sausage and placed them on his plate before beginning to inhale them.

Ron nodded at him and gave him a small smile, "That's why I didn't wake you up before I left. I thought I'd let you sleep longer and let you get up on your own. Although, if you hadn't come when you had, I'd have gone to go wake you up so you could have still eaten before class."

Hermione nodded in approval and gave Ron an appraising look, "It was really thoughtful of Ron." Ron's cheeks flushed and he looked away, feeling shy. Harry grinned at him; his crush was as noticeable as ever- except, of course, to the two involved. "It looks like Professor Snape had a good night too," she commented, glancing up at the high table.

Harry blinked and redirected his gaze up towards his Potion's Professor. It was true. The man didn't seem quite so pale today; his cheeks even seemed to have a light healthy flush to it. Snape also seemed to be talking to Dumbledore about something in an excited manner (well, as excited as the man could get)- probably some potion he was working on.

Ron groaned, "Who cares, Hermione! That nasty git's always trying to get us in trouble anyway." Hermione gave him a sharp look and he quieted down, "I mean, it's not like it's any of our business anyway… thank god."

Harry was about to turn and address the two of them when Snape broke off in the middle of saying something and turned to look at him. His breath caught in his throat when their eyes locked to each other's and he felt his heart begin to pound in his throat at the intensity in the man's eyes. For one desperate moment, Harry was afraid that Snape could actually hear the beating of his heart over the roar of the crowd. However, just as quick as it happened, it was over.

Snape turned away from him and focused on a worried Dumbledore. He must have said something reassuring because the older man smiled and nodded at him. "-rry!"

"Harry!!" Harry started, eyes wide and turned around to face a concerned Ron and Hermione. "Harry, are you alright? You looked kind of dazed and out of it," Hermione questioned.

Harry smiled at her and swallowed the lump in his throat, "No, I'm fine! I was trying to remember whether or not… I had remembered to finish my homework for Potions today."

Ron's eyes grew big and he couldn't help but exclaim, "Blimey Harry! Snape will kill you if you don't turn your homework in on time!" It was the only class that both Ron and Harry made sure to always have their homework done for- much to Hermione's distaste.

Harry scratched his head and gave them a sheepish smile, "I know…" he told him, turning pink. "I think I finished it though. It was just really late last night so I had to think about it for a moment."

Hermione tsked at them and started to lecture the two of them about how they should do their homework as soon as they get it instead of putting it off to the last second. Harry rolled his eyes and returned his gaze to Snape. Stubbornly, the man refused to look at him even once throughout the rest of breakfast.

--

Harry yawned into the palm of his hand and tilted his head to the side as he followed Snape around the room with his eyes. Potion's class was almost over- thank Merlin- and his snarky Professor was lecturing them about something that seemed almost impossibly boring. Really, where did the man come up with some of this stuff? Was he purposely going out of his way to find the most uninteresting potion ingredients to lecture them about? If so, he succeeded.

He licked his lips and watched as the man gestured at the shriveled up sopophorous beans. They would be using them to make the Draught of Living Dead for their sixth-year N.E.W.T. Potions class. Snape spoke to them in a velvety voice that sometimes made Harry's stomach do flips. This time, however, it just seemed to be droning on without an end, "…so you see, the most effective way to squeeze the juice out of the sopophorous beans is to crush them with the flat side of a silver dagger. While you brew this potion, it will release a blue steam. Ideally, the halfway stage should be..."

Harry sighed and rested his head in his hand as he recalled another Slytherin. Last year, Snape had made him work with Draco Malfoy for a Potion's assignment. It had been hell for him- at first. They had been able to do nothing but argue with each other for the first week of the project. When the due date approached with uncanny speed, they realized that they would never be able to finish it in time if they didn't work together.

So, after one final fight for which both of them had received detention for (they had resorted to hexing each other), they reluctantly called a truce for the duration of the assignment. It was then that Harry discovered just how intelligent Malfoy really was. In many ways, he was almost like a mini Snape when it came to his expertise in Potions.

Harry had found himself growing more attracted to the boy, much to his dismay. The day before the project was due they had both ended up experimenting with each other and waking up sweaty but satisfied in bed next to each other. After a long awkward silence, the two of them almost started fighting again. Instead, they agreed to never tell anyone about the incident and to go back to being rivals.

While they did just as they planned, Harry thought about the experience a lot. He had been confused. Everything had felt so good and different from what he felt with girls. He wanted to do it again sometime- although, not with Malfoy. He agonized over the incident for months before he realized that he was gay.

Harry was jarred from his thoughts by a loud crack sounding on his desk. He jumped in his seat and turned to face Snape with wide eyes. The man stood in front of him with a yardstick grasped in his hand as he glowered down at him. "Welcome back to reality, Potter. Perhaps now you might deem this class worthy enough of paying attention to."

Harry glared at him, "I was paying attention-!"

"Oh really? Tell me then, Potter, when you are stirring this particular potion, what are you supposed to do after every seventh counter-clockwise stir?" There was a moment of silence in which the older man sneered down at him with a look of barely concealed disgust.

Harry gulped and thought back to what Snape had been saying before he tuned out of the lesson. He came up with nothing. Feeling a bit frantic, he looked over past Snape to Hermione who was motioning with her hands. "Um, you uh-" he coughed and squinted at her, "-you stir it in the opposite direction?"

A flicker of surprise shot across Snape's face for just a moment before he turned and rounded on Hermione. She looked up at him with innocent, wide eyes and he growled under his breath. He turned away sharply and mumbled a few angry words at Harry that he had to strain to hear. "Correct, Potter."

As Snape finished up the lesson, Harry shot Hermione a grateful expression and mouthed a silent 'Thank you' to her. She nodded and gave him a disapproving expression that promised him that he would be on the receiving end of yet another lecture today. He sighed; it was going to be a long day.

--

It was a free period for Harry. He was in the back of the library hiding from Ron and Hermione. Although, considering where he chose to hide, she could probably find him with efficiency if she ever decided to look there. She wouldn't though. Why would she? It was the last place she (or Ron) would ever expect to find Harry- which was why he had chosen to hide there to begin with.

Harry wanted some free time to himself to write in his Journal without having to worry about Ron or Hermione peeking over his shoulder and discovering his secrets. He had been eager to write about his dream from last night but hadn't had any time to do so until now. He dug out a quill and ink before he placed them on the right side of the table in a neat pile.

Then he picked up the Journal and placed it in front of him before opening it and flipping through the first few pages to pick up where he had left off. He was shocked and a bit horrified to find another entry that was definitely not his underneath the tidy writing of his first entry. The text was elegant and, upon further inspection, familiar looking. He could not place who it was that had written it though.

Aggravated and a little afraid because his privacy had been intruded upon (and let's face it, if the wrong person had read it, the news that Harry Potter was gay could be all around the school by the end of the day), he leaned down to read what was written.

_The amount of cruel and heartless people who occupy the world astound me. People say that society's outlook on humanity is easing up and finally escaping the clutches of prejudice, religion, etc. I think there is little to no change. There will __always__ be people who think they are better than others because of wealth, race, sexuality or whatever else. It's true that more people are open-minded, but regardless they still care about themselves more than anything else. Humans are naturally very selfish creatures, after all. _

_I remember when I told my family I was gay. They became angry with me and immediately went into denial. My parents were convinced it was just a phase I was going through and that I would get out of it eventually. When it became obvious to them that this recent development wasn't going to go away anytime soon, they started trying to cover it up and hide it. They were embarrassed of me. Eventually, we ended up having one huge fight about it. They stopped talking to me afterwards and began to ignore me. In their eyes, I was dead. A failure. They even went as far as to talk to other people as though I no longer existed. _

_I still don't understand why it was such a big deal to them. I was the same person I had always been. The only thing that had changed was my gender of my prospective future partner. Why is it that my sexuality was more important than me?_

Harry was dumbfounded by the response. It was almost like the person whom had written this, probably someone in his dorm that had seen him writing in it before he went to sleep, had made a journal entry of their own in it. This person had even admitted that they were gay too! Harry couldn't help but feel his excitement bubble around inside of him as he thought of this person. Could they be the person he had been searching for? Could they be the perfect friend?

Harry shrugged to himself and nibbled on his lower lip for a few minutes, musing over the situation. The person whom had responded to his entry didn't seem to mind sharing the journal with him. They had been quick to talk about themselves and it made Harry more comfortable with the idea.

He was not that upset to discover someone had intruded upon his personal thoughts- which was odd. If anything, he felt sort of relieved. Now, he had someone to talk to and maybe, just maybe, if he continued writing in the Journal, they would too. With this thought in mind, Harry grinned to himself and picked up his quill before proceeding to respond to his anonymous friend.

_People who care more about their image than their own child aren't fit to be parents. That's what I think, at least. I mean, no offense, but think about it. It means that they're still too immature and self-centered. When you're a parent, it's not just about __you__ anymore. Your children always come first._

Harry set his quill down and reread his entry once before smiling in satisfaction and closing the Journal. The response was short, simple, and to the point. With any luck, it would be enough to provoke a response. He couldn't help but hope that whoever it was that had taken the journal from him last night would do it again tonight. The prospect of the idea left him giddy and eager. He couldn't wait to wake up tomorrow morning.

--

_That night, as Harry was sleeping, he found himself back inside the same place as the night before. The room was dim and the light came only from the roaring flames that the fireplace provided. The walls were colored a faded forest green and the carpet was black. There were quite a few bookshelves that were squished together and jam packed with many books that Harry couldn't see the titles of- not with such a dim lighting. In front of the fireplace was a black comfortable looking couch that, Harry decided, would be a lovely place to seat himself. _

_He crossed the room without a sound and sank into it, surprised by just how comfortable it really was. He released a contented sigh and ran his gaze across the room searching for someone. He wasn't sure just who it was he was looking for, but, he knew they were important. Harry pouted when his search came up empty and revealed no hidden people in the room. _

_Well, now what was he supposed to do? He reached up to scratch his head and froze when he saw his bare arm. What? He glanced down at his body and let out a tiny squeak when he discovered he was clad in only a pair of boxers. He felt his cheeks begin to burn and he attempted to cover his exposed skin with his hands, feeling the attempt was rather pathetic._

_It was then Harry heard a click from across the room. His head snapped up and he focused on the door, his earlier embarrassment forgotten as his anticipation took over. This was the person he had been waiting for, he knew it._

_The door opened and a man with dark hair and obsidian eyes walked inside in only a pair of pajama pants. His chest was bare and sprinkled in light muscles. Harry's eyes slid over his body, absorbing it, enjoying it, practically salivating over it. What a sexy piece of eye candy. His body reacted to the lean form and Harry was mortified to feel himself becoming aroused. He was quite proud of himself when he managed to tear his eyes away from his body and to the man's face a few minutes later. _

_The man was smirking at him with a raised eyebrow. Harry flushed, squirming on the couch and looking anywhere but at him with a hint of desperation. A few moments of silence went by before Harry finally turned his gaze back over to where the man was standing- only to find that he was no longer there! With wide eyes, Harry's gaze swept across the room, searching for him. He yelped and was startled to find the man was sitting right beside him. _

"_I, uh…" he murmured to the man, feeling unintelligent. _

"_Not very articulate, are you…?" Came that smooth, velvety voice of the man. Harry felt a shiver slither its way down his back only to curl around his hips and lend a hand to his teenage hormones. He felt even more flustered then earlier and he opened his mouth to say something smart to redeem himself just a little in the other man's eyes. Before any words came out, though, a pair of soft lips pressed against his._

_Harry gasped against those lips in surprise before he surrendered to the kiss. His arms slid up and wrapped themselves around the other man's neck as he pulled him closer, demanding more. In response, a pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around him in a tight embrace and pulled him flush against the other man's body._

* * *

**To be continued…**

**Writer's Note:** Mwhahahaaha. I stopped right there because I am evil like that. They don't have sex though. Just a make-out session. And remember, sometimes when we dream, a lot doesn't really seem to happen in it but the hours do tick by. ;D

And to answer any questions you may have, Harry and Snape do NOT recognize each other in the dreams- they're not supposed to, after all. They will not be able to recognize each other's handwriting. It does seem familiar to the both of them despite this, they will never recognize it (nor will anyone else- except, perhaps, Dumbledore) because it's part of the spell.

Oh, and, in case you're wondering how they ended up kissing so quickly, think about it. It's a dream. The circumstances between reality and a dream are entirely different. We end up doing and feeling things that wouldn't necessarily happen in reality.

Despite the fact that they're in complete control, they don't actually know that- or the fact that this isn't just a dream, but something they're really in together as part of the effects of the Journal. :D Anyway, we can also say that their hormones are getting revenge for being ignored earlier that day! xD

Do you have any more questions? Just ask me! The next chapter may be a little late- my beta is on vacation (she reviewed this before she left) and won't be back until July 6th. D: I will not be posting the next chapter until she beta's it- because she's amazing and always has me correct a LOT of things. So, expect the chapter to be posted from July 7th-13th. Sorry. D: 

**Credit to my beta, Obsessed4Life, for the sentence, "He could have moved anywhere he wanted in the vivid, detailed world if he had found reason to."**


	4. The Betrothal Pads

**Title: **Letters From The Inside

**Writer: **Teh Opheliac (A.K.A. Lillith Maxwell)

**Beta: **Obssessed4Life

**Warnings: **Slash / Yaoi, Snarry (Snape x Harry)

**Summary: **One day, Harry is greeted by a strange owl that seems oddly familiar. With a bit of coaxing, it introduces Harry to something weird, something amazing, something that allows him to interact with an anonymous person whom he fall head over heels for. Harry's life will never be the same again.

* * *

**Letters From The Inside**

**Chapter Four: Betrothal Pads**

Harry awoke the next morning feeling refreshed. He shifted in his bed and stretched with a small groan before he sat up with a smile. It didn't take long before he was distinctly aware of how tight his boxers seemed to have grown overnight. He blushed as he recalled the dream from night before with a low moan of approval.

The bulge twitched and seemed to become even more excited at the prospect. Harry bit his lip and glanced around with speculating eyes. Everyone was still asleep and there were fifteen minutes before they usually started to awaken; that left him with ten minutes to play.

Pleased, he drew his curtains closed and threw up a privacy charm before he reached down into his boxers and grasped his hardened member. As he began to caress it he thought of how good it felt to be in the other man's arms. He recalled the pressure of the man's mouth against his, the sweetened taste of his lips and tongue that left him craving more, and the unique, enticing scent of herbs that had flooded his senses and invaded his mind. It was his eyes, however, that really did it for him. He felt as though he would fall into them and lose himself.

His hips bucked and Harry gasped as he released into his hand. He lay there panting for a few minutes afterwards, reveling in the aftermath of his climax. It didn't take long before he started to feel cold and sticky, though, so he grabbed his wand with his free hand and muttered a cleaning charm to rid himself of the mess.

As he sat up and looked around, his mind began to function properly once again and reminded him of his excitement from the night before. The Journal! His hand eagerly plunged under his pillow and he pulled out the desired object. A grin settled itself atop his lips as he flipped through the pages and sought out a new entry. Ah-ha! There it was! They had written again!

_Indeed. It would seem this book is not as private as I had originally thought it to be. Who are you?_

_-S_

Harry frowned and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. What? Of course it wasn't private! This person, S, was writing in _his_ journal! How could they possibly consider it private when they snuck over to his bed at night and took his journal to write in it?!

Harry leaned over and dug out a quill from his bedside stand. He dipped it in some ink and hesitated for a moment. He'd play along with S for the time being. Perhaps then he'd be able to discreetly figure out what was going on?

_I'm H. I own this book, this journal. Why do you write in it (not that I mind)? At first, I thought you were responding to me. I suppose I was wrong._

_-H_

"Harry! Time to get— oh!" Ron's head suddenly appeared inside the curtains surrounding his bed and he jumped. "Sorry, I didn't realize you were already awake." He scratched the back of his head sheepishly and peered down at the book in Harry's hands. "What are you up to anyway?"

Harry shut the book and shook his head, "Nothing Ron." He put it down on the bed and started collecting his clothes and materials for class, desperate to get away from the other boy before he started pestering him about it. "I'm going to go take a shower, okay Ron? I'll see you in the great hall!"

Ron watched him go with a worried look before he shrugged and hurried out the room to go meet up with Hermione. He'd tell her about it and see what she thought about Harry's strange behavior.

**--**

Snape glowered at Dumbledore. The old fool smiled back at him while his eyes twinkled merrily. "An intriguing story, Severus, but by no means will I discourage you from corresponding with H!"

"What?!" he snarled, his anger **dissolving** into rage as he waved the book in his face. "It's a Betrothal Pad, Dumbledore! Someone left it outside of my door for me to find. It's a set-up, a prank! Why in Merlin's name would you want me to play along with it?! Why can't you simply find the blasted child responsible and punish them?"

Dumbledore didn't seem to notice the way the Potions Master threw daggers at him with his eyes. "Calm down, Severus. Why not try a lemon drop? It will make you feel better."

Snape blanched and shook his head, rejecting the muggle sweet. "Dumbledore--"

"Think about it, Severus. If you 'play along' with this, you'll eventually be led to find out the identity of the student. If it truly is a prank, they'll eventually want you to go somewhere to reveal yourself, right? Why not be ready for them?"

Snape frowned. He'd been too enraged by the prospect of someone trying to humiliate him to even consider this possibility. It was true. For the prank to work, they'd eventually have to reveal themselves. Mollified, he nodded to the Headmaster once and stood up, "Yes, Sir. I'll take my leave now," he told him stiffly.

"Severus," Snape glanced over at him, his face devoid of emotion, "Try to enjoy it. You may be surprised." He scowled and scoffed at Dumbledore before he turned and left the room.

--

The day passed slowly for Harry. Once he'd gotten to the Great Hall, he'd been met with a curious and somewhat suspicious Hermione. He figured that Ron must have told her about this morning and made a note to himself to be more careful when he was writing in his journal. He had been lucky it had only been Ron that had caught him. If he was too careless someone like Malfoy might get their hands on it!

He spent the rest of the day feeling grumpy and avoiding both Ron and Hermione (while pretending he wasn't) the best that he could. They were too inclined to talk to him and he just wanted some time to himself to think. It was hard seeing as they were in almost all of his classes. It seemed that he wasn't the only one in a bad mood, either. Snape had been all over him today. It was almost like the man had been hovering behind him and nitpicking at every little thing he did so he could find a mistake to yell at him for and take away house points.

By the time his break rolled around, the urge to flee was too much and he took off to the library for some peace and quiet. He picked out the most secluded place in the library and sat down on the floor in the corner of it before taking out his journal and opening it.

He was shocked to find yet another entry written there already. He frowned in confusion and ignored the bad feeling that was beginning to worm its way deep into his stomach. When could they have found the time to respond? He had kept the journal with him all day. The only time he hadn't been holding on to it was when he had been busy taking a shower. Could they have followed him in there and responded while he had been busy cleaning himself off? It didn't sound likely but it was the only thing that made sense.

Harry squinted at the page. All along the side and at the top was the man's handwriting. It was tiny and bunched together, though, making it hard to read. Some of it was even scratched out. It reminded Harry of when he was still in his muggle school. He had used the edges of his math homework to solve a bunch of equations. The only difference was that it seemed to be in another language and that it was obviously not math. The only words he could actually make out from all of the nonsense were: "_You own the book? Impossible." _and "Betrothal Pads."

Beneath the large mess was the actual entry:

_I wrote in it because it was there and I had something to say._

Harry felt more confused than ever. Despite that, he did feel more confident that it was someone in his dorm room again. S was no longer acting as though he were the victim that had had his privacy intruded upon. He shrugged to himself and sat there for a while, wondering how it would be appropriate to respond to such an awkward message.

_Well, you seem like an interesting person. Would you mind very much if I wished to know more about you?_

He shut the journal and held it to his chest. Who was S? What did S stand for? His first name? Middle name? Last name? Was it even related to his name or was it just some random letter that he had decided to use? What was S like? Why was he being so secretive about answering his journal? How could he figure out who he was?

More importantly, how could he reveal who S was that didn't include asking him? He already knew the other man wouldn't tell him- if he would have, he wouldn't have gone through such lengths to hide his identity from him in the first place. Well… the boy responded to him mostly at night. So, if he stayed up all night and pretended to be asleep, he'd eventually have to show himself, right?

--

The next morning found Harry stiff, aching and so tired that he found himself shaking his head every few minutes as if he were attempting to clear the cobwebs from it. The only way that seemed to 'help' him was by making him dizzy and slightly nauseous. His eyes were bloodshot, and the dark purple lines under them stood out starkly again his too pale skin. All in all, he looked like shit.

The worst part of it all was that no one had come! Now he was going to feel sick and horrible all day for nothing. He slumped forward in his bed and pouted. He had been _so _certain that by the next morning he would know the identity of his secret friend that he had never considered the possibility that they might decide to wait before responding again.

_Dammit!_ _What a letdown! _He rolled his eyes and forced himself to roll out of bed despite the fact that every muscle in his body was screaming at him to be lazy and finally give into the need to sleep. He ignored it. Barely.

It was still early but the other boys would be waking soon. He brought a hand up to his neck and rubbed the sore muscles there, wincing . It was going to be a long day. Quickly, he changed his clothes and gathered his belongings, making sure to include the journal. He gave up quickly on trying to tame his wild hair and pocketed his wand before he left his dorm room.

He settled down in the common room which was thankfully empty and sighed. He shouldn't be this disappointed. He really shouldn't! What had he been expecting, anyway? Harry shrugged to himself in response and was unable to stop a wide yawn from temporarily taking control of his mouth. Merlin, he was really tired! What had happened?

When he had been 12 he had easily been able to stay awake for days on end! And now, suddenly, he found himself actually needing _more _sleep then eight hours a night! It was almost like something was draining his energy or his magic.

He bit the inside of his cheek and decided that he would go to Madam Pomfrey to ask for a Pepper-Up potion **(1)**. Normally he wouldn't have bothered because he hated the idea of steam wafting out of his ears for the next few hours but he was certain he wouldn't last the whole day without it.

Harry gathered up his things and held them tightly to his chest as he stood up and started his long trek from the seventh floor (Gryffindor Tower) to the third floor's Hospital Wing. As he walked through the halls of Hogwarts he found the silence to be almost deafening. He was used to the loud chatter of the students or even the quiet sounds of the ghosts as they drifted by. It was unnerving and, at the same time, relieving.

He didn't have to hold up his usual "savior" façade for his peers, the "successful student" for his teachers or the "saint potter" for his rival Slytherins. He could simply be himself. Just Harry. This was, of course, what he had wanted all along. It was rather hard to be yourself, though, when the entire wizarding world seem to be watching and analyzing your every move.

A small but tired smile pulled at his lips despite his aching body and fuzzy head as he surveyed the floor he was walking on, lost in his thoughts. It was in this moment of carelessness that he abruptly ran into a firm chest. He blinked a few times and he stumbled back with wide eyes, apologizing immediately, "I'm sorry—" he broke off when he found himself face to face with one Severus Snape.

"Harry Potter…" he started, glowering down at him past his hooked nose. Harry felt a shiver creep down his back at the way the Professor said his name. "Not only do you refuse to pay attention in class but in general everyday life as well? My, my. You're even more like your filthy father then I had originally thought. The resemblance between the two of you is simply uncanny."

Harry said nothing for a long moment as Snape watched him with something akin to amusement. He stood rigidly before him with his face flushed pink in anger and his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. He glanced up at Snape and felt his stomach twist at the look on his face. It was rare that he would be privileged enough to see such a pleasant expression (even if it _was_ at his own expense).

Sadly, it disappeared just as quickly as it appeared. Soon it had transformed into a somewhat confused sneer that succeeded in pulling Harry out of his semi-dazed state. "I—STOP COMPARING ME TO MY FATHER!" he snarled without his usual scorn, falling back into his old habits. Snape relaxed (well, as much as he can), feeling more comfortable in the familiar territory.

The snarky man narrowed his eyes at Harry in warning and with an icy expression he leaned forward until he was mere inches from his face (to which Harry felt his heart begin to race) and hissed, "You would do well to hold your tongue. Ten points from Gryffindor."

He watched Snape skulk away, his robes billowing behind him, with a dumbfounded expression. "I… what?" he murmured to himself, wondering what was wrong with him. Why had he reacted like that? Harry shook his head and began to gnaw on his lower lip as he continued his journey to the Hospital Wing.

By the time he arrived, Madam Pomfrey was not only up and about but tidying up the beds nearby in preparation to an unforeseen accident. She glanced up when she heard him walk in and frowned. "Oh, Mr. Potter. Have you been injured doing something dangerous again?" she wondered curiously, raking her eyes over his form (at a distance) as she checked for wounds.

Harry shook his head and smiled sheepishly. "No, Madam Pomfrey. Actually, ah, I wanted to know if I could have a Pepper-Up potion?"

Her frown grew deeper and she bustled forward to inspect him. "Hmm, overly pale adorned with a deep flush… clammy skin… rather warm temperature… bloodshot eyes. Yes, you may be coming down with a cold. How are you feeling?" she asked him as she ran her wand over him and checked his vitals.

Harry, feeling awkward, shuffled back and forth as she examined him. He had come to ask for the potion because of the unique side effect it had. It was similar to that of a muggle energy drink, really- though it was a lot stronger. Not that he was going to tell her that, of course! "My head hurts and my throat is aching," he lied.

She nodded at him with furrowed eyebrows and guided him over to the closest bed. "Well, you sit here, dear, and I'll go fetch you the potion." Harry did as she requested and set his books down next to him. Hopefully this was a sign that his day wouldn't be quite as bad he had originally thought.

--

The day seemed to drift by like a blur. He had been pleased to receive an owl from Sirius during breakfast but his happy mood soon faded as he was pestered by both Hermione and Ron to explain the details of his Godfather's whereabouts.

It almost seemed to be a never ending cycle recently. The more he avoided Ron and Hermione, the more they bugged him. The more they bugged him, the more he avoided them. He knew it was his fault for being so distant and secretive recently. He just couldn't bring himself to tell them what was really going on; at least, not yet.

Harry settled himself down in the library and opened his journal to see if S had responded to him yet. His breath caught in his throat and his eyes bulged almost impossibly wide. S had – _was_ – responding. The words were fading onto the page atop the lines and it distinctly reminded him of the incident with Tom Riddle in his second year. He slammed the book shut as his mind raced and his heart pounded in his chest.

A few minutes ticked by before he tentatively opened the book again and turned to the last page that was written on. He peered down at it, noticing that it was finished since the words were no longer appearing on the page.

_Interesting? I suppose. Why don't you explain yourself first?_

He swallowed thickly and shut the book again, immediately deciding not use it until he had managed to figure out exactly what it was and whether or not it was dangerous.

A few days went by as Harry ravaged the library, looking through everything he could get his hands on (even the restricted section!); Ron and Hermione were less then pleased with his frequent disappearances and were beginning to become a bit testy. Every time they saw him they would begin to demand what he was up to, where he had been and why he was avoiding them.

Harry didn't particularly _want _to avoid them and keep them out of the loop. He just didn't want them nagging him about the journal all the time. Hermione would because she would think it was a threat and Ron would back her up to get on her good side.

He sighed and grabbed the object that was the cause of all of this fuss. It didn't look like anything out of the ordinary- but it most certainly was! The boy opened it and began to reread the entries that had been written. He was startled to find that underneath the last entry from the other person sat a new, now annoyed one.

Harry told himself that he shouldn't have been so surprised to discover that his anonymous "friend" had cared enough to inquire about his abrupt disappearance. His unease deepened as he read the entry the other person had left:

_I'm curious. I wonder where you have gotten to. Did you drop off the face of the earth or have you simply fallen over and died?_

'_Well… that was rather blunt, wasn't it?'_ he mused to himself. Despite the awkward way the question was worded, Harry thought he could feel at least a little sincere worry in it. This only helped to make him worry even more. How could he be truly sure that this person wasn't out to get him?

But what if they were good? If he blew them off now and it turned out there was nothing to be concerned about, he would regret it later. Sighing deeply, he leaned down and warily wrote out a response before plunging headfirst back into his research.

_Sorry. I've been feeling sick recently. I was told to take it easy and rest before I make my condition worse. I'll write again when I'm feeling better._

A few hours came and went and Harry hadn't progressed in the least. He growled and dragged his hand through his hair roughly in irritated frustration. He hadn't found a single thing relating to what he was looking for and it seemed like he was going to have to drag in a professional. He swallowed thickly and winced. He was going to have to tell Hermione- and she wasn't going to like it.

--

"— and that's what happened," Harry confided to Hermione.

Hermione frowned and he could tell she was less then pleased with him. "Harry, this sounds a lot like—"

"Some evil scheme that Voldemort is cooking up? I know," he confessed. "That's why I've stopped talking to him. I want to be sure that it's safe too. That's why I've been trying to figure out what this is; if there's anything written about it in any of the books in the library."

She clicked her tongue once and looked away, her mouth set in a firm, unhappy line. "So, have you come up with anything?"

"Well I—Er, I mean…" He paused, not wanting to tell her no. He knew that had it been her, that she would have at least found _something_ in all the time he had wasted without confiding in anyone. He didn't want to appear stupid or to have been wasting his time. He closed his eyes and thought about everything he'd read already. Oddly, his mind was drawn back to the one entry written by S. What were those words? "Betrothal Pad."

Hermione stiffened and her eyes widened a little, "What?"

"Oh, I…well. I guess I was just wondering if—"

She cut him off abruptly, "You think it's a betrothal pad?" Her eyes swept over the journal with appraisal. "Hmm… well, I doubt it but it's not impossible," She muttered more to herself then to anyone else.

Harry started. "You mean it really exists!?" he blurted out before he could stop himself. She gave him a look and he turned pink. "I mean, uh. Well, I wasn't aware that it was. What is it? Is there any information about it in any of the books here?"

Hermione nodded at him. "Yes, there is one book I know of. I finished reading it about two months ago. Here, follow me." She beckoned him to follow her as she gathered her stuff.

Harry watched Hermione as she led the way into the deepest section of the library. She was tense and her expression was pinched tight. He followed her for a good five minutes before she finally came to a stop. "Ah, here we are." They were in a small alcove that he had never seen or even noticed before. All of the books there were old and rather thick. He watched with fascination as her face twisted into a relaxed expression (she always did seem to be more comfortable with books than anyone else) as she ran her finger over the tops of them, "Mm, it's around here somewhere…ah-ha!" she murmured with satisfaction as she pulled out a tall book.

She lovingly ran her hand along the spine of it and caressed it before she seated herself on the floor. Hermione placed the book on the ground and opened it with care before she started running her finger along the index. When she came up with nothing, she frowned. Her eyebrows furrowed in thought for a few minutes as she contemplated. Moments later, her expression brightened and she ran her finger along the index once again. It didn't take long before her finger had stopped and, as Harry noticed when he peered down beside her, landed on the words "Spondeo Libri."

He frowned and gave her a confused expression. "The whole book is in Latin," she explained when she noticed the look. He nodded at her and watched as she flipped through the book until she landed on the designated page. She held the book up and her eyes scanned the paper, "Ah, here it is… because it's in Latin, I'm going to have to read it to you." She didn't bother to stop and wait for his response. She simply began to read out loud.

--

"_In the mid 1700s, a witch by the name of Gondoline Oliphant __**(2)**__ (more commonly known for her studies of life and the habits of trolls) created the Betrothal Pad. Originally, it was a wad of parchment with a strange assortment of charms and spells cast upon it (all recollection of which ones have been lost) that allowed a fellow witch or wizard to communicate only with the person whom had the matching partner to it. _

_As the difficulty of keeping it safe increased, she bound the parchment in a black leather book and cast a new slew of spells upon it to ensure maximum animosity and safety. It was nearly 10 years later before she had finally completed the first set of Betrothal Pads. _

_As the name suggests, they were created for the sole purpose of choosing a suitable witch or wizard for betrothal purposes (more often than not by purebloods). Two years before their child comes of age, their parents begin to contact other families and together they decide to give them the Betrothal Pads. The children then begin to get to know each other without the slightest idea of whom they're talking to. This allows the child to get to know the other person without worry of outside prejudices influencing their decisions. In a few months time, the parents question them and discover whether or not the children are able to tolerate one other. If so, they have a match, a single meeting, and the wedding plans begin. If not, they try again. _

_Every night in which the both holders of the book have written in the Betrothal Pad, they are subjected to visit with one another in their sleep. While they are able to see each other in their dreams, they are unable to recognize one another. When they awaken, they are able to clearly recall the other holder's face but they are unable to place where they may have seen that person from. _

_Each book has an enormous amount of charms and spells placed upon it to make it impossible for the holders to discover whom the other is without an outside source telling them. An artificial intelligence is placed inside the book. It reviews all entries and deletes anything it believes may be a clue as to whom the other holder is._

_The Betrothal Pad draws the magical energy necessary to keep the charms and spells intact from the holders as they use it. When they sleep at night (amidst the dream), their powers are replenished so the effects of the drain do not interfere with the Holder's everyday life._

_Oliphant was clubbed to death while sketching in the Cotswold and all the secrets of the Betrothal Pads died along with her. As there are only 25 sets of Betrothal Pads in existence (and most were lost during the early 1800s), it was essential that the original ones had a proof of authenticity. It didn't take long before fake sets began to be reproduced. Oliphant placed a thin, red thread of binding on the inside of them. All one needs to do is to tap their wand along said binding three times and demand, "Show thy maker." Within moments, Oliphant will reveal herself."_

As she finished, Hermione frowned, obviously not satisfied with the given information. It was still too suspicious, too convenient that Harry should just happen to find one of the few Betrothal Pads still in existence. Not only had he possibly managed to find it, but, the matching partner to it was active and in the hands of someone else! What were the chances? Minimal to none. Something just wasn't right.

She sighed, pushing down the feeling of foreboding that was threatening to overwhelm the pit of her stomach. "Harry, let me see it. I want to check and see if it's real." He pulled it out and held it in his hands for a long moment as though he were reluctant to even let her touch it before he finally handed it over to her.

She almost smiled in relief. As she took it in her hands she felt the power it held within it humming thickly in the air. She swallowed deeply and opened it to the last page. Hermione watched Harry out of 

the corner of her eye as she lifted her wand and tapped the binding three times before whispering softly, "Show thy maker."

A moment passed and nothing happened… and then the humming of the book increased by tenfold. The power throbbing around it was so substantial that she could taste it. There was a flash of crimson light from the binding that momentarily blinded her. She gasped and held her hand up to her eyes to shade them from the light. It faded slowly and left a small woman in its place along the middle of the binding. She was about a foot in height with blonde hair that was pulled back into a braid that fell down the middle of her back. Atop her head sat a crumpled, pointy, green hat. Her body was clothed with an elegant, light brown dress and a green cloak.

She looked around for a moment before her chocolate brown eyes lay upon Harry. "You are the holder of this Betrothal Pad?"

Harry blinked stupidly for a moment before he nodded at her, "Uh, yes! I am. I'm Harry Potter."

She nodded at him and smiled softly, "Take my hand." She held her tiny hand out in his direction. Hesitantly, he reached out to her with his pointer finger and pressed it gently into her palm. A zap of red electricity seemed to shoot through him. His body became rigid; as though it were stretched farther than it was meant to go, past its straining point. It lasted for mere seconds but to Harry it seemed like forever. Then it was over. His body went slack and crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

Hermione cried out and jumped forward, catching his shoulders and his head before they could hit the ground. With wide eyes, she lowered his head into her lap and began to stroke his hair out of his face. "Harry? Harry…?"

He was still for a moment and even his breathing seemed to have slowed down. Then, his eyes opened just a crack and he groaned, "It's real."

Hermione hissed quietly in annoyance, "I don't care! Are you okay?! What happened?"

"Mm? Oh, when I touched her, she showed me the book's past. Flashes of images shot into my head. She showed me a few bits and pieces of how the book was put together, all of the people who had used it before." He smiled at her and ran his hand through his hair as he sat up again. "It's okay. It's safe, Hermione. It's not some plot of Voldemort's to come back."

"Harry, you don't know that!" she protested weakly. "You have no idea who the other person you're talking to is. It could be You-Know-Who!"

Harry laughed, "Why would Voldemort go through all this trouble just to talk to me? It's not like he's shy. If he wanted to talk to me, he'd do it!"

Hermione's unease grew even deeper as she witnessed how attached to the book he seemed to be, "But Harry… I think you should tell Dumbledore about this. You should let him examine the Betrothal Pad and determine if it's safe or not! That way we could be certain—"

Harry glared at her, "No, Hermione! Why do you always have to over-examine everything?! Why can't you just let things be? Why can't you trust me?"

"Excuse me? Harry, I didn't have to help you with this. I didn't even _want _to! I did it because you were my friend and you needed my help. Why can't you just give me the benefit of the doubt?" she demanded from him angrily.

"Why won't you give me it?!" Harry didn't give her a chance to respond; he just turned and stormed out of the library with the notebook under his arm.

Hermione glared after him, tears shimmering in her eyes. Why couldn't he see she was just trying to help him? Was it really that hard for him to understand that she just didn't want him to get hurt?! She took her time putting the book away and gathering her things, regaining control over her emotions and thoughts as she did so. By the time she left the library, she looked as though she had never been crying to begin with.

--

Harry knocked on the door that led to Dumbledore's office in confusion. For what reason could the Headmaster have to talk with him today? He'd seen the man not even a week ago and had been told that nothing of importance seemed to be going on at the moment. Perhaps something had happened? _I hope no one has been hurt_, thought Harry. He hoped if something had happened it was minor. If it _was _minor, though, he doubted Dumbledore would have bothered to tell him.

"Come in, Harry," Dumbledore's grave voice urged him. He felt his stomach flip and contract painfully at the tone of his voice. He reached up and pushed the door open. Inside, the Headmaster sat at his desk with a serious expression. Hermione sat in one of the chairs before his—wait, Hermione?! His head snapped over in her direction and she winced, immediately dropping her eyes to the ground with a guilty expression.

Harry felt anger and betrayal surge through his body like an electric shock. Oh no. Tell me she hadn't! "Harry, I'd like you to let me see that journal of yours." She had!

_To Be Continued..._

**1)** Pepper-Up Potion Yes, I know this potion is used to cure the common cold. I made one of the side effects of using it to be similar to that of drinking an energy drink. It helps to make you more alert and awake. So sue me (not really)! D:

**2)** The Character, Gondoline Oliphant, does not belong to me. She, too, belongs to JK Rowling. xD I used some information I found on her site to better weave this character into my story.

* * *

**Writer's Note:** First off, I want to apologize for being late to update this story by a few days! TT.TT That wasn't my intention. To make up for it, I made the chapter longer then I was originally planning to. It's my longest chapter yet! YAY! Now, if you're wondering WHY I was late in updating... the main reason is because of a writer's block. It was horrible. I knew EXACTLY what I wanted to write but I was unable to write it. I was so frustrated that I even ended up crying. o.o;; Also, I had to send it to my beta for corrections. It took her three or four days of my nagging her (I'M SORRY!) before she gave me the beta'd version. I feel bad about it now. D:

My beta, _Obsessed4Life_, had to help me with several areas because it was so bad. x.x;; I almost felt like quitting. I didn't, though, because I want to finish this story. If I do, it will be the first ever story that I've finished! Yeah, I know, bad track record. D:

I kind of wonder if have lost some of my writing talent. I was writing on a few years ago under my original screen name (_Mrs. Tara Yuy Maxwell_) and in one of my stories (Child Behind The Mask) I had 79 reviews for two short chapters- which was utterly astounding! I'd never been so proud of my writing! (One of my goals in life is to write a story where I get 100 reviews.) I'd love to go back to that story and finish it but I can't remember the password OR email address for the account. I've even tried to write to a few times and ask them about it but they never fucking respond. _-upset about that- _

Anyway... with this story... I have twelve reviews for three chapters. I can't help but feel rather disappointed- especially in myself. I know the reviews shouldn't be so important (and it's not even what people say- it's the fact that they stop and take the time to leave one because they like my story THAT much, that's why it's so important to me) but I can't seem to help myself. _-somewhat ashamed and quite sad-_ It makes it hard to have any motivation to write this story; to try to finish this story. Does anyone know what I mean?

**Also, I would like to credit my beta for giving me the following three alternative sentences to use:** "An intriguing story, Severus, but by no means will I discourage you from corresponding with H! ; She took her time putting the book away and gathering her things, regaining control over her emotions and thoughts as she did so. ; I hope no one has been hurt, thought Harry. He hoped if something had happened it was minor."


End file.
